Sacrifice
by Matty Groves
Summary: My first fic, set towards the end of season 6. Willow sacrifices herself to save Tara, but the result is not quite what she expects. Some of the early dialogue has been taken straight from the show as it seemed pointless to change it!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

A scarlet circle with a dark heart, slowly expanding. A fine spray of hot, red drops. A look of shock and surprise on Tara's face.

"Your shirt..." Willow's voice was edged with concern. Tara's body crumpled, starting from the knees, and she fell to the floor.

"Tara!"

Willow rushed to catch her lover as she fell, still not understanding . She was crouching at Tara's side, cradling her head, with no recollection of how she had arrived there. Even as she tried to make sense of what had just happened, she saw the light fade from Tara's deep blue eyes. As her girlfriend's muscles relaxed, the expression of shock slipped away and Tara was at peace.

Willow stroked Tara's face, crying as she struggled to comprehend. Rocking backwards and forwards, a low keening wail was dragged from her lips.

"Oh, god! Oh, no... please. Please! Come on! Come on, Tara, please! Come on, baby..."

Even as she pleaded with her lover, Willow knew it was too late. Tara was gone. The best thing in her life, this incredible soul that she had lost and then found again, had been snatched away once more, this time forever. Touching the blood that continued to seep from the ragged hole torn in Tara's chest, Willow could no longer deny what had just happened.

A wave of grief, rage and fear slammed through her body. She started to shake uncontrollably as a scream ripped its way from the depths of her soul. And somewhere, so deep inside her that she wasn't even aware that it was there, the dam that held back the magick shattered. As her mind retreated from a reality that no longer contained the person she loved more than life itself, magickal fire raced through her being, controlling where once it had been controlled. The small spark that was still Willow looked on in terror as the magick claimed her. Her eyes glowed red as she looked up and stared into the abyss. 

"By Osiris, I command you! Bring her back!"

Willow's voice ripped through the dimensions. Propelled by magick it pulled aside the boundaries of reality. opening a gate to the underworld itself. The ceiling was suddenly obscured by a boiling sky, thick with dark clouds. Lightning flashed, setting stark shadows flying across the room.

"Hear me, Keeper of Darkness!" Willow's voice reached out again, so laden with magick it was an almost palpable presence. Demanding, compelling. The clouds above her head circled wildly, and a painfully loud voice boomed out from the centre of the maelstrom.

"Witch! How dare you invoke Osiris in this task?"

"Please... please bring her back!"

"You may not violate the laws of natural passing."

"How? How is this natural?"

"It is a human death by human means."

"But I..."

"You raised one killed by mystical forces. This is not the same. She is taken by natural order. It is done."

"No! There has to be a way."

"It... is... done!"

"NOOOOOO!!!"

Willow's scream reverberated with power, distorting the air in front of her and hurling Osiris from the Earthly plane. She wrenched her eyes back to Tara's face. Her tears continued to flow, and her body was wracked by heaving sobs. This could not be! She had only just found Tara again. They were going to spend the rest of their lives together. At that thought a small voice popped up unbidden in her mind.

You did.

She screamed again, unable to bear the pain as her soul ripped further apart.

"Bring her back! Bring her back. Make it not true..." she pleaded. She allowed her head to fall forward until her forehead was touching Tara's face, Her tears ran over her lover's face. And a desperate plan started to form. With the magick still surging through her she knew that she had the power. It could be done. The balance would have to be maintained, something given, something taken. But Tara would not die. That was the only thing that mattered. Her sweet Tara would still be alive. Willow looked up once more, her expression cold and hard.

"Temporis reverto!" Once more Willow allowed the magick to flow into her voice, and once more the veil of reality shattered...


	2. Chapter 2

_Well it's taken a lot longer than I thought it would to get this bit finished. It would probably help if I could stop editing as I go, but I don't think there's much chance of that. Many thanks to those who read (and especially commented) on chapter 1. Please let me know what you think of this bit._

**Chapter Two**

Willow's heart skipped as she looked at Tara, framed in the light from the bedroom window.

"You're an angel. My angel." she said. She knew that Warren was still out there, and would have to be dealt with, but she was still as happy as she had ever been. This was all it took. With Tara back in her life she was complete, and all was right with the world.

_"Get her away from the window."_

The thought shot through her mind so unexpectedly she almost turned to see who had said it. Tara must have noticed the strange look on her face.

"Willow... Honey?"

Willow opened her mouth, intending to reassure Tara that it was nothing, just a momentary distraction, when the thought returned. It was more insistent this time and she couldn't stop the rising sense of panic that it started. Her mouth snapped shut and, as she stepped forward, she tried to rearrange her features into a smile. She felt as though someone was inside her head, beating on her frontal lobes. The small voice was reaching a crescendo, repeating its phrase over and over again, with increasing urgency.

_"Get her away from the window!"_

She took Tara into her arms. Forcing herself to keep smiling, she spun her round and then pushed her away with a gentle shove. Tara stumbled backward, her arms pinwheeling briefly as she struggled to regain her balance. As she bumped into the bed she finally over-balanced, the covers bouncing up around her as she landed, just as Willow had intended. What happened next however, was not a part of Willow's plan. Still off-balance, Tara rolled sideways and slipped off the edge of the bed. The side of her head hit the bedside table with a sharp crack, and a thrill of fear shot through Willow as she noticed the streak of blood on Tara's forehead as she fell to the floor.

Only vaguely aware of the voice in her head, that was still frantically screaming an incoherent refrain, Willow tried to go to Tara. She knew she had to move, but she couldn't seem to get the message from her brain to her limbs. And then, just as the muscles in her legs tensed to drive her forward, the world exploded.

Liquid fire shot through her chest, driving all the breath from her lungs. Her head snapped back as her body was thrown forward. Time telescoped until she felt as though she was part of a slow-motion replay. Small details stood out in stark clarity, although she was completely unable to grasp what had just happened. She could see a spray of red drops, like a fine mist in front of her. The walls of the room seemed to slide upwards as she fell, as though she was looking out of a glass elevator. Then time caught up with her again, crashing down onto her back and driving her face into the floor.

Willow desperately tried to force some air into her lungs, but she might as well have been underwater. Her limbs felt heavy. In fact her whole body felt as though it was being pushed down against the floor by a great weight. A dark, fuzzy ring was forming at the edges of her sight, slowly contracting. She knew that she was dying, could feel her body shutting down, although she still could not guess what had happened to her. A sense of lethargy was growing with every passing second and she felt a deep longing to let go, to stop trying and just let death happen. Until her failing vision rested on Tara, with her legs still tangled in the covers of the bed and her head resting against the bedside table. The sight of red blood on her girlfriend's temple, jarringly bright against the paleness of her skin, sent a new wave of determination through her. 

Frantically Willow tried to force her body into action. Tara needed her! As the responses from her body started to fade completely, her mind went into a paroxysm of panic. The entire force of her will focused on the need to move, to get to her feet and go to Tara. She reached deep inside herself, finding reserves of strength she never knew she possessed. Pushing herself harder than she ever had before she came up against the mental walls that shut away her magick. With a final surge of strength she burst through them, and felt her being suffused with a raging torrent of mystical energy. Her back arched and her head lifted from the carpet. A scream that she did not know she had the breath to give voice to, burst from her throat. She could feel fire surge along her limbs as they were returned to life. As the first rush of power subsided she collapsed back to the floor, sobbing with the pain that still radiated from her chest. She was no longer in immediate danger of death, but her body had suffered serious damage, and it was letting her know in no uncertain terms. Every thought, every sense of self, was driven from her by the white heat of the pain. It dominated her and defined her until no Willow remained, there was only pain. The image of Tara that had brought her to her senses, was diminished, until she was no longer aware of it.

She forced herself to her hands and knees, knowing that the magic was sustaining her, but unable to remember why that was important. As she slowly rose to her feet she could see trails of energy drifting across the room, connecting one thing to another. Looking down, she saw that her body was glowing, radiating a bright, golden light. She could feel her hair moving, as though it was charged with static electricity. But the pain still hammered at her, and she could tell that the magick wouldn't last for ever. She needed help. She needed the sort of help that involved doctors and surgery. But she also knew that she would never make it to the hospital. The magick would sustain her for a short while, but she was having to fight against the pain all the time. The hospital was just too far. Once again Willow felt panic begin to take over. She took a deep breath and tried to focus her thoughts back onto her body. Closing her eyes, she looked inwards, trying to find some way of bolstering her strength. She could feel the wound, hot and red, pulsing like a living being, a dragon curled up against her heart. She let her senses slip deeper and deeper, seeing past her physical form, into her spirit. She had practised this before, learning to seek her inner being. It was an intensely restful form of meditation. But today, her spirit was in turmoil, dark colours flaring where in the past she had found only calming, pastel shades. Still she forced herself onwards, down through the layers, further than she had ever gone before. Until finally she reached the very centre of her being, her spiritual core.

The fabric of her spirit surged and pulsed all around, torn by the pain and the magick that fought for control of her body. But in front of her was a sphere of darkness, featureless and impenetrable to her witch's sight. She felt both an irresistible pull towards it and an overwhelming fear of it. Tentatively she let her mind drift over it, afraid to make a firm contact. The sphere felt cold and hard, and yet there was an undeniable sense of power and energy. Instinctively Willow knew that this was what she needed. There was enough energy here to beat back the pain, to give her the time to save herself. Still she hesitated. A mental itch nagged at her. A voice from the past that she could not quite bring into focus. Again she forced herself to relax, to let the images rise in her mind.

_"You know what you are babe? Raw potential. That's what you are. I can feel it all there inside you. You're like Pandora's box on legs. You open that thing up and it's over, you know? I'd like to be there when it happens. Could be kinda fun."_ She remembered Rack looking up at her as she bathed in the magick. His tone was part mocking and part serious. She hadn't paid much attention at the time. He always rambled on interminably and she just filtered it out. But now it took on a new significance.

_"Pandora's box, huh? Well, that can't be good."_ Willow continued to watch the blackness in front of her as she considered her options. _"But what choice do I have? I'm dying here. I don't have any choice."_ She felt resignation at what she was about to do, certain that it would have consequences but unable to think of an alternative. With the mental equivalent of a deep breath she sent her mind plunging into the orb.

The darkness closed around her as she sank into it. She was unable to see, unable to feel. The absence of sensation was so complete that she began to doubt her own existence. Floating through nothing she wondered if death had finally won, whether this was in fact all that waited after life. And then she stopped sinking. Willow wasn't sure how she knew she had stopped, she certainly couldn't feel it, but she knew that she had. She was also sure that something was changing in the blackness surrounding her. There was a sense of motion, of something seeking her out. Something that was not benevolent. A hard, violent presence that she felt she had known her entire life, although she had never seen it. She wanted to scream, to launch herself back to the light, but she could not. All she could do was wait, certain that she would be found, and certain that being found was going to be the worst thing that ever happened to her. Worse than death. Far worse. Over and over she recited prayers to the goddess. _"Don't let it find me."_ She tried to make herself small, to hide the beacon of her mind and her magick. But she could feel it coming. It had her scent now. She could feel the malice radiating from it as it swept toward her. Toward her and over her, engulfing her in a darkness so profound that it was as though all the light in the universe had been extinguished. For a fraction of a second Willow found herself wondering how this thing could be darker than the total darkness that already surrounded her, and then all thought was swept away as the presence claimed her. All the pain she had felt before was nothing. This pain hit her without working through the intervening layers of skin, muscle and nerve fibre. Ragged and raw it surged through her, wave after wave, until every defence she had was stripped away. She could feel herself burn, could feel her skin blister and blacken. And finally she did scream, silently and futilely. There was no sound, no sensation, only the pain. She was denied even the small relief that the scream might have brought. And Willow knew that she would scream silently in the darkness for all eternity. Whatever this thing was, it had her now, and it was never letting go.

* * *

Tara groaned as she opened her eyes. The light was too bright and she quickly shut them again. Her head was pounding and she didn't seem to be able to move her feet properly. Cautiously she opened her eyes again, but the room still refused to come into focus. She shook her head, trying to clear her vision, and immediately wished she hadn't. The pain in her head flared, sending red fingers deep into her brain. She groaned again, squeezing her eyes shut, and waited for everything to settle down again. Finally she felt able to try again, and opened her eyes once more. This time her vision seemed slightly clearer, although everything looked as though she was looking through frosted glass. What she saw didn't make any sense either. She could tell that she was lying on the floor, although her feet seemed to be up in the air. She was partially covered by something red. She looked at it blankly for some seconds before realising that it was the cover from the bed.

_"How did I get over here?"_ She thought, _"I was standing by the window, wasn't I?"_ She looked up again, past the end of the bed, to the place she remembered standing. With a sense of relief she saw Willow. She would know what had happened. Everything would be alright as long as Willow was there.

Her vision continued to clear, although the pain in her head seemed to be getting worse if anything. In fact it was starting to make her feel decidedly sick. And there was something wrong about Willow, something horribly wrong. Why was she standing like that; head back, arms stretched out to the sides? And why was her hair blowing about; there wasn't any wind in the bedroom? And why _("Oh goddess, no!")_ was the front of her shirt covered in blood? What on Earth was going on?

Tara pulled her feet towards her, trying to disentangle them from the bed cover. Her mouth worked as she tried to call out to Willow, but she couldn't make the words come. Her feet slipped from the bed, their impact with the floor driving fresh shards of pain through Tara's skull, just as Willow slowly tipped her head forward until she was looking straight ahead. Tara gasped as she realised that Willow's eyes were completely black, a sure sign that she was deep in the grip of the magick. Willow's lips curved in a slow smile, tinged with malice, as she wrapped her arms around herself.

"Now that's better." Willow's voice sounded deeper, more resonant than Tara remembered. She spoke again, as her eyes dropped to the bloodstains covering the front of her top and the hole in her chest. "Except for this. This hurts. Someone needs to pay." Willow turned suddenly and strode towards the door. Tara could only watch with a sinking feeling of dismay as her lover walked past her without once looking down. Willow hardly paused at the door, which flew open without her touching it. And as she heard the sound of footsteps descending the stairs, Tara started to cry, sick with the feeling that she had lost Willow to the magick again.


End file.
